


Down and Down and Down and Out...

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (for jmart. not for the rest of the world), (that don't actually rescue anyone), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Hopeful Ending, M/M, dramatic rescues, episode 197 spoilers, falling, rating is for swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 197!!!In which a minor miscalculation sends the Web’s entire plan into ruin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 121





	Down and Down and Down and Out...

“So…” Jon says, and flicks the lighter in his hand shut, holding it out and away from his body, over the edge of the web. “If I were to throw it away-” Annabelle gasps, and he smiles, “-into your little pit…”

“I would advise against that,” she says, carefully, all eight of her eyes fixed on Jon’s hand.

“Oh, would you?” Jon says, and loosens his grip ever so slightly.

_ “Jon,”  _ Basira says, a warning in her voice, and Jon glances at her. “She still has Martin.”

Martin gives a muffled grunt, and Jon’s eyes dart back to him, widening as he sees the precarious position he is in. Annabelle has taken hold of the back of the chair he is stuck in and is tilting him, ever so gently, to the side, so that his torso hangs over the endless void while his feet remain on solid ground - or web, as the case may be.

Jon stops breathing, petrified with sudden dread. It wasn’t that he’d  _ forgotten  _ about Martin’s plight - he’d just been enjoying the feeling of having the upper hand for once, of finally,  _ finally  _ knowing what the Web wanted, and having the power to deny it.

There is a tense, silent moment, and then...

"Fine," Jon says, and "fine," again, softer, more defeated, replacing the lighter in his pocket, and Annabelle smiles and pulls Martin back toward safety, releasing her grip on the chair.

He slips.

It is a frozen moment; Martin makes a strangled noise as the chair overbalances from where it was poised and pitches back toward the edge of the web. Beside Jon, Basira gasps. Annabelle's eyes dart to the side, the smug look sliding from her face as she sees what is happening.

Jon is the first to move, taking a step forward and stretching out a hand in a desperate instinct to catch him, even though he is much, much too far away to do so.

It is futile. In the space of a heartbeat Martin is gone, over the edge with nothing but a muffled cry of terror left hanging in the air behind him and the lingering afterimage of his wide, frightened eyes fixed on Jon's face.

Jon jumps.

He does not think through the action. He does not consider the consequences. He simply hurls himself forward, seeking out the nearest break in the webbing, and lets himself fall.

Basira shouts his name behind him; Annabelle screeches a desperate  _ "No!"; _ and below him, relief and horror flash through Martin's eyes in quick succession as he sees what Jon has done.

There is a physics to falling. Gravity pulls on all things equally, so the speed and acceleration of a falling object is determined more by its shape and density than the amount of mass it contains. The chair Martin is stuck to is a large, wingback, sturdy affair; as it falls, trailing strings of webbing behind it, it fights against the air it cuts through, wind resistance and drag slowing it down, ever so slightly, in its descent. Jon draws his arms in close to his sides, angles himself perpendicular to the ground he has left so far above, and falls after it.

The world dims around them as they plummet ever deeper, fading away into shades of grey. The voices of friend and foe alike are long lost to the rushing of the wind, and the soft susurration of the tapes that stretch down into the void with them. The world has diminished to nothing more than the distant walls of this immense cavern, and the faint light reaching down from above.

It’s working, though. Jon angles himself to the side as he draws close to the place where Martin is falling, fighting against the air to direct his own descent. He can see Martin struggling, tearing at the webs that hold him trapped to the chair, each jerking movement sending him into a dizzying spin in the air. Jon stretches out a hand as he gets closer, closer, straining against wind resistance and the pull of the void-

One hand snags the arm of the chair as they spin past each other, sending them colliding together in a bone-bruising crunch of limbs and webs and wood.

_ “Mmmmm!”  _ Martin says, barely audible over the wind, and Jon clings to him, pulling himself closer, working one arm between Martin’s back and the chair so that he himself is trapped in the webs as well, inseparable.

“Martin!” he shouts, half in greeting and half in desperate relief.

_ “Mmmm! Mmhm, mhmmm!”  _ is the reply he gets, and with his free hand he reaches up to the gag of webbing that covers Martin’s mouth and rips it free.

“Jon!” Martin gasps, spitting out strands of web. “What the  _ fuck!” _

It’s a fair question; Jon has, essentially, doomed the world, ruining whatever slim chance it may have had had Annabelle's plan borne fruit.

“I couldn’t just let you fall!” he defends himself, though he knows that excuse does not hold water.

Martin agrees. “So you decided to jump  _ after  _ me?” he demands, high-pitched and disbelieving. “What about the world? What about our  _ friends?  _ Basira, Melanie, Georgie?”

“I didn’t exactly think this through,” Jon admits.

“Clearly!” Martin’s indignance does not last long; even as he’s shaking his head at Jon’s impulsivity, there’s a smile tugging at his lips, and it’s not long before it bursts free in hysterical laughter. “Christ, Jon,” he says. “Only you.”

Jon presses a kiss to his forehead, the only place he can really reach from his precarious position on the chair. He’s tempted to say something soft and sappy in return, perhaps respond with an  _ only for you,  _ but he bites it back in favor of more practical matters.

“Let’s get this webbing off,” he says, and Martin nods, tugging at his arm in an attempt to loosen the bonds that hold him down.

It takes a long time, if time can be said to have any meaning in this place. The concept of it slips and slides through Jon’s mind as he carefully peels strings of webbing away from Martin, always cautious to keep a secure hold on him with one hand while he frees him with the other. He won’t risk getting separated again.

Regardless, it is long enough that the light from above has faded away entirely, and been replaced with an otherworldly glow emanating up from the cavern below, when Martin is finally free. Jon wraps both arms around his shoulders, holding him close, and braces his feet on the chair below them. With one final kick, the webs sticking Martin to the seat are pulled free, and the chair spins off away from them into the void.

“What now?” Martin asks, the words spoken directly into Jon’s ear while they cling to each other, and Jon shrugs as best he can without losing his grip.

“I have no idea,” he says, and the words send a giddy thrill through him.

He is, he has to admit, a little excited. They are plummeting toward the ultimate unknown, and the promise of discovery is setting his heart racing almost as much as the fear of the fall. He can feel the Eye slipping from his mind the farther they get from the surface, leaving him behind - just him, only him, Jonathan Sims as he has always been and now will always be - and he finds himself yearning toward the moment when it disappears entirely.

He does not regret jumping. He doesn’t think he could have borne to lose Martin so suddenly like that, for so little reason, and at least now they are free from whatever machinations the Web wanted them to join. Perhaps Annabelle’s plan could, indeed, have saved the world, but Jon suspects the cost may have been higher even than dooming a million others, and now there will be no risk of finding out what it is.

There’s a puff of warm air against his neck as Martin sighs, and Jon can hear the fond amusement in his voice.

“I guess we’ll be finding out together, then,” he says.

Jon knocks their heads together lightly, and allows himself a moment of sappiness. “There’s no one else I’d rather be doing it with.”

They don’t have many options available for affectionate gestures, falling as they are, but Martin still manages to land a kiss in the hair behind Jon’s ear at that.

“Me neither,” he says, and Jon smiles.

The light below them grows, and grows, brighter and brighter until they have to shut their eyes against it. It fills up the cavern, and  _ beyond  _ the cavern; illuminating the places that can only be seen out of the corner of an eye or in the shadows of a mirror. It dwarfs the two falling figures, leaving them as just a speck of darkness against its overwhelming glow.

And then they are gone, and the light is all that remains, shining unimpeded out into the world that they have left behind.


End file.
